Just a Serial Killer
by SeekJustice
Summary: Shinigami has 23 victims within city limits. He targets those who he sees worthy of the afterlife. His next victim is Quatre Winner, a conflicted high school student. Can NYPD Detectives Yuy, Chang and Coroner Barton stop him before it's too late? SLASH
1. Prologue

Just a Serial Killer

Prologue:

It was too early in the morning to be tagging bodies in dark alleyways, but that was exactly what Trowa Barton was doing. There was a thin layer of water over the ground and lightly dusted the cold body laid out in front of him. As a city coroner, he dealt with the body while detectives worked around him.

It was a dark morning in New York City, broken only by the red and blue of the police cruiser lights.

Detective Wufei Chang knelt on the cracked wet ground beside a steel green dumpster, white gloves moving along the ground in front of him.

"The ground is filthy everywhere except where the body was laid out. The killer respects the victim's body enough to clean the ground where he lays them."

Wufei's boyfriend and partner of two years was sitting half in and half out of his police cruiser. His fingers moved surely over the keys of his laptop as he filed a preliminary report to headquarters about the new body. He grunted a "Hn," in response.

"God damn it!" Wufei's cursed. Trowa didn't bother looking up from the body; he was just as exasperated as Wufei.

As Heero stepped out of the cruiser he walked past the body and put a hand on Wufei's shoulder. Feeling the small squeeze, Wufei closed his eyes and lifted his right hand to cover the one on his shoulder.

The sound of high heels striking the pavement made both men stand. Une made her way past the small line of yellow tape and bypassed the cadets watching over the crime scene. Her pissed off facial expression made Heero and Wufei mentally prepare them for her onslaught. This was their boss, the Chief of Police for New York City.

Chief Une stopped dead by the body, and Trowa just ignored her presence. He opened his field pack and began to gather the body properly into the body bag. He lifted the head off the ground, sliding out a vidtape that the head had been pillowed on.

"Yuy, Chang. This is number twenty-three. If our best agents cannot find a serial killer, just one man within city limits in the past two damned years he's been killing, I don't know who can. You have one month until the anniversary of his first killing, and one month before he lays another body out for Barton to tag. After the scene is processed, take the rest of the day off. You have a whole month before you need to find him."

With that she turned sharply on her heel and left the crime scene, most likely off to make a public statement for the press.

As she walked, she called over her shoulder, "And Wufei, go get some sleep. That's an order."

Heero grabbed onto Wufei's jacket as his lover turned around and smashed his fist into the dumpster behind him.

"Twenty-three, Heero. We've fucked up twenty-two times now. This woman is dead because we couldn't find him in time." Wufei's normally sharp voice had an edge of anger and maybe sadness to it that pained Heero to hear. Heero wrapped both arms around him.

Trowa looked up at them as he zipped up the body bag. "You guys are good; I just need to transport the body to the morgue."

Heero nodded, thankful for Trowa and his expertise. He didn't have to worry that the coroner was overlooking evidence needed to catch the killer. Trowa bagged the vidtape and passed it to Heero.

This was a long night for all three of them but especially so for Wufei. The two partner police team had been put on assignment nearly two years ago to find the serial killer that plagued the streets of New York. Since the first two victims had been found, exactly one month between them, the team had put every other case aside when they realized there was a pattern.

Wufei had been the first to realize the victims were reported missing exactly two weeks prior to finding their bodies.

This continued at a pace of one missing person per mid-month. Going through all missing persons cases from that time period Wufei and Heero frantically searched for any information from the public and the sparse evidence that had been left behind. At the end of the month there was one of these missing persons whose body was laid out dramatically somewhere in the city, always.

Trying to determine which missing person was the victim was the hardest part. Family members went frantic, knowing because of public statements issued by the police that the serial killer kidnaped the victim first. Wufei and Heero not only had to deal with these families, they also had to deal with paperwork and video that came with the bodies.

Heero touched Trowa's shoulder as they walked by and said, "Meet us at the diner?"

Trowa's hands continued his work as he nodded. "My boss will want to process the body, so I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

Heero and Wufei left the academy cadets and Trowa to finish with the scene as they took the video to their squad car. They pulled off their white gloves and tossed them into the small medical waste bin in the dash, a routine they'd done a hundred times before.

Heero snatched the keys off of Wufei's utility belt and slid into the front seat. Wufei snorted and got into the passenger's side, too tired to put up a fight.

Heero watched his lovers face as Wufei pulled off the band holding his hair up. The black hair fell around his face, hiding his bloodshot eyes. The closer it came to the last day in the month, the less sleep Wufei tended to get. He would stay at the office all night long, tempting Heero to stay with him. Even when Heero convinced him to come home at night they would end up with files strewn all over their bed.

As Wufei's hands moved to retie the ponytail, Heero's arm shot out and buried itself in Wufei's hair. They shared a knowing look, Heero's more sympathetic as he couldn't seem to get too emotionally involved with the cases, but knew just how much it affected his partner.

"We'll find him." His fingers massaged Wufei's neck and his lover closed his eyes, moving a hand over the police laptop to rest on Heero's thigh.

"We say that every time this happens, but we don't seem to be getting any closer."

Heero looked out the front windshield as Trowa and an assistant lifted the body covered in a black bag up into the back of a coroners van. Wufei's voice almost startled him.

"Put the tape in."

"Wufei..."

Wufei clutched at Heero's hand and repeated, "Put the tape in."

Heero sighed, knowing how stubborn his lover could be and slid the vidtape from the package. If he was worried about fingerprints he would have put on more medical gloves. However, in the many times they had done this the killer never left behind a print.

The laptop screen was a bright light in the police cruiser as Heero hit the outside siren lights off. The video was crisp and very well made. The background behind the woman was a flawless black but both Heero and Wufei's expert eye searched for clues, anything that the killer had missed that might show his whereabouts.

The woman was sitting in a comfortable chair, not bound in any way. It looked as if she were there voluntarily, which irked Wufei to no end. As the video went on, his grip around Heero's hand grew stronger. She began talking, her voice just a little strained.

"I know that this looks like a bad way to go, mom and dad. Really it's not all bad. He said it wouldn't be painful, that he would kill me before he did anything like what they're going to say on the news. I just want you to know that I love you so much." The woman's voice was cracking. Her eyes flickered to the right of the camera, showing that he was in the room with her. Her eyes showed a little fear but she kept talking.

"I always had trouble at work. I didn't think anyone really liked me there. He says he'll help me get to the other side and that I was worthy to be chosen to go. This is the best way I could imagine, I think, other than maybe going in my sleep. I've only got a second left, so I just want to make sure that you know that I'm happy. I'm waiting for you in heaven."

At this point she signed the video as if it had been a letter.

"Love, Anne."

The woman had gone missing two weeks earlier from her workplace in the downtown core. At first they had thought it was a fluke, maybe a woman who ran off with her boyfriend. With a few interviews with coworkers and family members Heero and Wufei realized that she was a perfect target for the serial killer.

Her coworkers said she was quiet and shy, that no one bothered to talk to her. Her family members said she was a quiet woman that no one gave a chance to befriend.

This serial killer didn't kill for fun, he tried to choose a victim according to their worth. His main goal was to kill those who he deemed ready for the afterlife. Unfortunately, the media played up on this and started calling him the Shinigami, or the God of Death.

Wufei bit his lip and held onto Heero's hand as his lover shut the computer off and started the cruiser. He maneuvered the cruiser around the cadets and police cars to get onto the main road.

They were both silent as they made their way back to headquarters, both detectives lost in thought.

Heero dropped Wufei off at the front entrance and made his way back to the motor pool to sign in the police cruiser. As he made his way through the steel doors he waved at the security Sergeant and walked through bright halls down to the very first level of the building. Here there was a small café and diner built for off the street patrons and police officers alike. It operated twenty-four hours a day, just like police work. There were always officers milling about the place, and it was probably the safest place you could be.

Trowa was sitting in a booth opposite Wufei and Heero made his way down the orange steps to sit next to his partner. He slid one arm around Wufei's lower back and felt him lean against his side. A cheery voice accompanied a loud mouth as their server almost bounced over to their table.

"I'd give you guys menus but I really doubt that you'll use them."

Heero watched as Duo took in their mental state, and saw that they were more sullen than usual.

"Long day, guys?"

Wufei nodded, resting his defeated head on Heero's warm shoulder.

Duo's face was apologetic, twirling his braid in one hand. "I'll get you guys some coffee and cake, on the house."

As Duo bounded away again Trowa looked over the table at Wufei and Heero's exhausted faces.

"You two should get some sleep, like Une said, there's plenty of time."

Trowa might not spend all his time trying to find Shinigami, but all his victims ended up on his metal slab at the city morgue. Knowing how emotionally attached to the cases Wufei could get, and how attached Heero was to Wufei, he knew that they both needed sleep badly.

Wufei snorted. "Does Maxwell even know that it's 5am, and that he's trying to feed us cake at this ungodly hour of the morning?"

Trowa shook his head and Heero reached over and kissed the mop of black hair that Wufei hadn't bothered to re-tie. Maybe sleep wasn't such a bad idea. They continued their small talk with topics that had nothing to do with the case, waiting for the coffee their friend had promised.

In the back room of the café, Duo leaned against a wall with his head in his hands.


	2. Chapter 1

Just a Serial Killer

Chapter One:

Duo Maxwell sat low in the driver's seat of a black sedan in a high-end neighbourhood of New York City, snuggling down into his seat to get comfortable and listened to the music of the eighties rock genre. He had donned a black outfit, his hair shoved down the back of his black jacket, before beginning day one of choosing who to send to the afterlife. Sometimes it took just a few hours to find one but Duo found that the perfect person doesn't just fall into your lap. Atop the black leather seat beside him sat a large hunting knife and black cotton face mask.

He had parked his car in a low pedestrian traffic zone, but was the easiest way to view people who wouldn't normally be in crowded areas. His victims tended to be very recluse in nature.

He flexed his fingers and pillowed his hands behind his head as he stared out the front windshield. Killing was as natural to Duo Maxwell as breathing; the circumstances surrounding just who he killed were influenced by the priests' teachings he had acquired when he had been adolescent. He tended to kill those that one priest in particular, one Father Maxwell who was currently among the deceased, would have deemed worthy of the afterlife. Father Maxwell had been the head priest of the orphanage where Duo spent most of his earlier life growing up, studying the teachings that the priest had to offer. The old priest had primarily taught that people who were innocent and could fully accept the afterlife could get to it faster by death than those who hadn't. However, it was an absolute sin to commit suicide but that was where Duo Maxwell came in.

He had started almost two years ago with his first victim. The man had been an electrical engineer who lived in a five building apartment complex downtown. Duo, on his way home from his new job at the café, stumbled upon his dying body on a bridge next to the apartment complex. This bridge was notorious for gang activity and the man's upper body was full of stab wounds. Duo fought the instinct to call an ambulance, instead holding the hand the man held out to him. He whispered to Duo, pulling him in close. "Please, take the pain away. I don't want to live in this world any longer."

Against his better judgment he searched the ground around him for something to use. There was a black handled hunting knife resting a few feet away, a likely remnant from the earlier attack. Duo grasped the smooth handle and placed the tip just below the sternum and without hesitation pushed upward, quickly killing the man. It took almost a month for Duo to realize the severity of what he had done. Knowing from biblical teachings that it was a sin to commit murder he sweated out the loss of his soul. He checked up on the man and realized that he had lived an innocent and pure lifestyle. Duo slowly came to see that by killing him he had led the man to the afterlife early. Almost a month later Duo met another who was deserving of the afterlife, but decided to go about killing them differently. First Duo spent two weeks waiting and watching, ensuring that they led a good life. The next two weeks he spent with the subject, getting to know their traits and finally killing them swiftly and cleanly. The one regret he held about the first killing was that he failed to give the man his last rites.

Duo put forward his own soul in order to help others achieve what he never could have.

After the police realized his presence in the city as a serial killer, the tabloids took to calling him the God of Death, or Shinigami, which was fine with him. As time passed his victims were killed on one month intervals and Duo tried not to taunt the police, as his jovial nature tended to do.

Duo stifled a catlike yawn. He was still tired from killing the woman the night before, followed by cleaning up the mess and placing the body on display for the police department to go through. At that, he rolled his eyes. The police department had its best detectives on his trail and yet they were no closer to catching him in the last two years as they had been on day one. The fact that he worked at the café in the police department and had a working and personal relationship with the very men that were commissioned with finding him, helped him to conceal his true identity.

Heero and Wufei were his best friends. They went out for drinks together, along with Trowa Barton, and were an inseparable four. Duo tried not to mix business with pleasure, however, and tried not to pry for facts on the case no matter how curious he got. They all found their relaxation in each other and enjoyed each other's company for the past few years and he didn't want to mess that up. Of course, Wufei and Heero really found their relaxation in each other, Duo snickered to himself.

A woman walked dangerously close to the car and Duo watched her facial features as she passed. She had light brown hair and wore a baby pink suit, looking like the type of person who owned everything and was used to getting anything she wanted. The scowl that painted her face made Duo sit back, uninterested.

A blond haired student, arms wrapped around a stack of schoolbooks, crossed the street on the other side of the road.

Quatre Raberba Winner, son of a billionaire businessman, left his school with enough schoolwork to last the weekend. He poured himself into his studies as he really had nothing else to do. His father had sent the limousine again to the front of the school, and yet again Quatre had sent Rashid on home without him. The limo was to signify the Winner family wealth and prestige by shoving it into the other students' faces. Unfortunately, no matter how hard Quatre tried, he just couldn't make friends with anyone. The entirety of the student body saw him as a spoiled child whose father paid for everything and he lacked for nothing.

That was not entirely true. Quatre did have everything he could ever want, except maybe a father and mother who loved him. His sisters were all at boarding school elsewhere, so it was just him in the house with his parents who spent the majority of their time arguing about everything. That was the reason Quatre told Rashid to take the limo home ahead of him. He didn't want to get there any faster than he had to. He was bundled up in layers of blue cotton, arms wrapped snugly around what he deemed necessary to get by for the two full days he was home.

He crossed the street using the crosswalk and continued up the sidewalk slowly towards home. He heard the jovial shouts and cheers before he saw the majority of the football team turn the corner, headed in his direction. Quatre had little to no interest in athletics yet these jocks tended to have an interest in teasing and taunting him. Their arms were slung around each other as they sauntered down the lane. Quatre took in his surroundings, seeking an escape, only to find a fence that lined the sidewalk on one side and the road on his right. The likelihood of them letting him pass unaccosted was slim to none.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" One impossibly large boy pointed out Quatre's presence to anyone who might have missed him.

"Looks like that little science fag from school," another teammate sneered while the other boys jeered and catcalled.

Quatre calmly stopped and placed his schoolbooks on the ground beside him while the team made the same circle around him as per normal. He tipped his chin up, willing himself to be brave enough to last through however severe a beating they were set on giving him today.

More jeers came and as the severity of their words increased so did their shoves. Quatre found himself with his back against the fence and a gash on his forehead staring out across the street. The jocks were closing in on him, sneakered feet aiming for his ribs. They got in a few good solid kicks before the tires of a car screeched to a stop just beside them. Quatre looked up, dreading that he would see Rashid, but instead it was a sleek black sedan instead of the proper limousine. The passenger side door opened and Quatre heard a voice call, "Get in!" just before he shot to his feet and threw himself into the front seat of the car. He would get new books later.

He shut the door and the car drove off very fast. Quatre turned in his seat to see the football team throwing rocks at them and tearing his books to shreds, paper flying throughout the street. His ribs ached, his head wound was bleeding and he had a busted lip. Pretty good for a tussle with those boys.

When he turned to eye the driver, he found himself staring at a man fully dressed in black from head to toe. The cotton mask he wore made Quatre jump back in his seat and then hiss as his ribs protested the movement.

A chuckle came from the masked man.

"I won't hurt you."

Quatre heard the deep voice but was too scared to do much other than stare at him. The man drove for a few minutes, turning down side streets Quatre had never been on before. Finally, he pulled the car over, shoved the gear into park and shut off the engine. He tugged at the black mask, ensuring that it was snug against his neck where it was met with more black material.

He leaned over and snapped the glove compartment open, the tiny light illuminating a long blade. Quatre clutched at the door handle, not pushing on it, but holding it as if it would protect him from this man's intentions. The man's fingers slid around the handle of the blade and grasped onto a white cloth beyond it. Pulling that out, he shoved the compartment closed again.

He lifted the cloth to Quatre's face and Quatre flinched in fear, grabbing the man's wrist in both hands. The man chuckled again and removed Quatre's trembling hands with his free hand. Again he approached Quatre's face, and dabbed the white cloth tenderly on the edge of the split lip one of the boys had given him. His movements were gentle and Quatre found himself staring into violet eyes, the only part of the man he could see, as he cleaned the wound.

He folded the cloth and moved higher up on Quatre's face, the wound where he hit his head on the steel fence was still bleeding. He wiped up the blood that was slowly running down Quatre's face, his movements very gentle and slow which Quatre was very grateful for.

"Thank you."

His voice was whispered, as if he were afraid that speaking would move the man to violence. The masked man bunched up the now red and white cloth and reopened the glove compartment. The glint of the blade caught Quatre's eye again, but the man just shoved the cloth inside. He brought out a pair of surgical gloves and proceeded to take his leather gloves off, the man replaced them with the white ones.

Quatre was even more confused at this point.

The man sat sideways in his seat and brought both hands down onto Quatre's abdomen slowly, watching Quatre's face for signs of distress. Quatre was breathing heavily but was otherwise fine. The hands touched and pressed just under his first set of ribs. Quatre's sweaty hands were unmoving on his knees as the fingers moved up his chest, feeling and pressing. Quatre took in a sharp breath and nearly doubled over when he pressed too hard on one spot.

"You have a broken rib, which means I'm dropping you off at the hospital."

He took off the white gloves and sat back in his seat properly, replacing the leather gloves and shoving the used white surgical gloves back in the glove compartment.

As he restarted the engine and pulled away from the curb, Quatre groaned. If his father had to pick him up from the hospital there would be material for his parents to argue about for a week. They would start by arguing who was the worse parent and escalate by punctuating that with why Quatre wasn't a leading athlete in school. Getting his ass handed to him by these jocks wouldn't help it either.

"Please, no hospitals. Can you just take me home instead? I'm really feeling just fine."

The man's eyes were quizzical as he looked at Quatre like he had two heads.

"You have a broken rib and who knows how many are bruised. You really should see a doctor." He was watching Quatre almost as much as he was watching the road.

"Really, I'm perfectly fine. Thank you."

The driver shook his head. "I have a medical field pack, are you comfortable with me binding your ribs instead?"

Quatre looked out the window at the passing stone and brick buildings and nodded.

He maneuvered the car to a wooded area that wasn't too public but secluded enough that they could work without being seen.

Duo shoved the keys into his pocket and popped the trunk. He grabbed a large black bag and brought it over to the right hand side, onto the sidewalk. He opened Quatre's door and motioned for him to swing his legs over so he was facing the open door.

"Strip."

The one word command made Quatre jump back in his seat again and hiss in pain while doing so.

The man tsk tsked and grabbed the zipper of Quatre's blue cotton jacket and pulled. Quatre caught his hands and took over the job of undressing, seeing as how it was going to be done anyway. The man busied himself with finding white wrappings from his bag as Quatre slowly undressed. He kept his last t-shirt on but bundled the rest of his shirts and jacket on the seat behind him.

The man's eyes flicked up and seeing that Quatre wasn't making a move to take it off, he grasped the end of the shirt and carefully pulled it over his head. He threw it on the pile of clothes behind Quatre.

Now Quatre sat bare chested, with a masked man kneeling in front of him and a knife in the dash of the car. He shivered in the crisp air and waited as the man exchanged his leather gloves for the surgical kind.

He started the wrappings just above where Quatre's hand was pressing, where the pain was mostly located. His fingers worked quickly, wrapping the bandages tight, but not uncomfortably so. Quatre wondered if he had had medical training in the past. He got closer every time he pushed the wrappings around Quatre's back.

When he was done, he grabbed the t-shirt and redressed Quatre. Once the many layers and jacket were snug and zipped up, he started to repack his bag. Quatre settled back into the passenger seat as the bag was tossed back into the trunk and the trunk was slammed closed. The masked man got into the driver's seat after he closed Quatre's door.

Instead of driving they just sat there.

Quatre's curiosity got the better of him and he began to glance over. What if the man was just helping him in order to hurt him later? Would he take him home or take him somewhere else?

He licked his lips, his throat was dry.

The man calmly switched his gloves and Quatre caught another glimpse of the knife. Finally the car was started and they pulled away from the curb. Quatre's bindings were snug, lessening the pain of the moving vehicle, so he had more time to worry about the stranger.

"Why did you help me?"

"Because you needed it."

Quatre was emboldened by the fact that the man had answered his question so he decided to ask another.

"Are you going to take me home?"

"No."

Quatre's eyes started to water. The man looked over and said, "I'm going to drop you off, call a cab and they can take you home. I'll follow to make sure you get there safely. Sound like a plan?"

Quatre let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Yeah, that sounded like a pretty good plan. No matter how much he didn't want to go home, the possibilities of this stranger were too scary to even think about staying.

The masked man drove up to a small taxi stand, stopping the car as he turned towards the boy and asked, "You have money?" He waited until he saw Quatre nod. "What's your name?"

Quatre didn't know if it was smart to answer him, or extremely stupid to lie to someone who had been that seemed so dangerous.

"Quatre Winner."

He nodded and unlocked the door.

"Well Quat, the next time you see me I just might have that knife in one hand. I'm not sure yet. See you around!"

His voice was jolly, but the implications of it were not so. Quatre opened the car door with the stranger's words ringing in his ears as he slowly made his way to a taxi.

As he told the man his address, he sat in the backseat and watched out the window. Every couple of streets there was a flash of black, and Quatre knew he was being watched.


	3. Chapter 2

**Just a Serial Killer**

Chapter Two:

Apparently my parents are fighting again. I could hear the soft sounds of their voices carrying up the stairs to the second story of our home and I grimaced, trying to fight the urge to cover my ears. Letting out a ragged breath, I flopped backwards onto my satin bedcover and thought about the past week. Almost a full seven days had passed between the fight on the side of the street and me getting picked up by a total stranger. A gorgeous stranger with violet eyes and a very large and shiny black handled hunting knife. It wouldn't be so bad if the guy had refrained from threatening my life with it.

A loud crash made the house silent again. Tomorrow's cleaners would find a nice mess in the Winner family home once again, but Allah knew they should be used to it by now. These fights happened on a nightly basis. As soon as my socialite mother came home from an event, she picked apart my father's daily business venture. That always started a wave of arguments that quickly escalated into a dangerous game of who can break more valuable stuff.

I hated it.

Almost as much as I hated my school life and the horrible people I had to deal with on a daily basis. I also hated being negative but try as I might, it was difficult to paint a bright and positive picture of the son of a wealthy and well known businessman while I was scorned by the majority of those around me. My parents disliked having me in the house and thought of me as just another kid that should be off like the rest of my many sisters. My schoolmates disliked me ever since I had a crush on that boy in my class. Yeah, boy. The sweet little Winner boy prefers men over women. That could be why I hadn't made any friends in the past four years at this prestigious private school, but who knew.

When another large crash came from the living room, I dashed towards my bedroom door to see if anyone was hurt. As I gripped onto the door, I could hear both of their voices and I sighed, resigning myself to stay in the room. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was around eleven o'clock at night and the voices downstairs were getting just loud enough that I was almost feeling suffocated. I needed to get out of the house.

The violent nature of my parents' relationship had only begun a few months before and in that time I had taken to escaping for much needed peace and quiet. I threw a light blue sweater over my t-shirt and freshly bandaged ribs, courtesy of Rashid. He was the only one who knew of my nightly escapes and had procured me a safe way out of my window every night. Hitting the light switch to make it look like I was asleep would keep my parents from wondering where I was. If they really cared about me.

I jerked the window open after grabbing a set of simple sneakers from my broad closet and the wood creaked little. At this point their voices were so loud I doubt they'd hear it if a nuclear bomb was dropped on top of New York City. Ducking out the window, I latched onto the rough wood that was the support for collective varieties of vines that ran up the side of our home. The wood was reinforced by Rashid since he witnessed a near fall a few months ago. I suppose he figured if I was going to sneak out I may as well do it safely.

As I made my way steadily down the side of the house, I plopped softly to the ground and turned to face the paved path just down the road. Here the high-end houses ended and cracked pavement began as the path wound through a dense tree filled park. The weather was just cold enough to be an issue as I made my way through the park. I needed to clear my head from the angry and hate filled voices of, really, almost everyone I associated with. With the exception of Rashid of course. There was a bench about half way down the path and I made my way steadily to it wanting nothing more but to curl up and think about…well nothing really. I felt almost empty most of the time.

Sneaker scuffs mingled with the sounds of trees shaking in the breeze and I wrapped my arms around me as I walked. As I rounded a corner, the bench finally came into view and I realized that it was already occupied. A figure dressed in dark clothing sat atop the bench and I felt a thrill run from the tips of my toes and fingers.

Maybe it was him.

I'd be a fool if I lied to myself and said that I wasn't intrigued by the violet eyes and kind strong hands that bandaged my ribs that day. I could feel a blush as my face flushed pink and I thought of those fingers touching the bare skin of my chest. My steps slowed as I thought of what the man could do to me. My heart hammered in my chest at the thought of what I wanted him to do to me.

Oh Allah.

This isn't how it's supposed to be.

I had almost psyched myself out enough to turn around and run back to the house I hated when the man sitting on the bench turned his head my way. I still couldn't tell if it was him. It would be the darkest night of the year when I'm alone in a wooded park in New York City.

I was still quite a distance from the bench when the man stood up and I quite literally froze mid-step. His approach seemed wrong to me, as if it should be sleek and more silent. Instead I heard the scuffing of shoes on the pavement as he came closer. When he was close enough for me to realize that my stupidity had blindsided me into thinking this dangerous man was the one I'd dreamt about for the past six nights. Besides, after those few glimpses of the black sedan during his taxi ride home I'd seen nothing of the man since.

It was too late to run now. My limbs were frozen.

"It's a little late to be out on a school night, isn't it?" He had dirt ground into his face and a scowl on his lips. I felt a stab of fear as I wondered if he would try to mug me and what he would do when he realized that I had nothing with me. He reached out a hand towards my face and I took a step backwards, out of his reach. My heart was beating so fast all I could take in were shallow breaths.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you." The leer on his face suggested otherwise. The man lunged forward again and my feet moved on their own, backing quickly away from him.

I felt tears in my eyes that I didn't dare let fall.

Just as his cold hand settled on my wrist, I felt a sharp cold breeze against my back and then found myself wrapped in warm, strong arms, my back pressed against a strong chest. A large knife gleamed against my chest and the cold hand removed itself quickly from my wrist. I could see the fear on my would-be attackers face as clear as day. He started to stumble backwards, away from myself and the man I was sure had saved my life before. The arms were warm and I felt protected in his strong embrace, all of my fear dissipating even though that knife was aimed at my chest and not my attackers.

"This one is mine."

I never felt so overjoyed to hear his voice.

"Yeah, yeah man. You can have him!" The man turned and fled up the path stumbling as he went. I imagined the picture we made, my own blond hair and small figure wrapped in a shadow of black. I was almost certain he wore his mask. I ducked my head down, relief washing over me as we stood on the path I'd walked a thousand nights before.

"Do your parents always argue like that?"

So he has been watching me. I nodded. The cotton of his black jacket was soft and I let myself sink back into his arms. His wrist twisted outward until I could feel the tip of the knife just below my sternum and his left gloved hand ran up my side.

"How are your ribs, Quat?"

I was growing hotter at each stroke of his hand and realized that he probably didn't even know what he was doing to me. Or maybe he did.

Allah forgive me.

"I-I need you to stop." My face must have been bright red by now. He chuckled and I could feel the low rumble deep in his chest.

If he wasn't so tall I might've had a chance at getting away without him physically letting me. Unfortunately my sweater wasn't long enough to cover the front of my pants and if his hand kept stroking my side like that, it wouldn't be long before he noticed my reaction. My eyes were watering again. Damn my emotions! I couldn't take it anymore and had to put some distance between this man and myself. My attacker was long gone by now and it was unlikely he was ever coming back.

This one seemed like he had no intention of leaving. His caress was getting more and more frequent and I admit it—I panicked.

My hands resting at my side were now clutching onto the leather hands, jarring his perfectly placed knife position. I could hear him breath next to my ear as he bent over my shoulder and said, "Hey, hey! Don't move like that. I've got a sharp freaking object pushed into your chest and you dance around like it's nothing. Sheesh."

I bit my lip and wondered if that was concern I heard in his voice.

"Can you let me go now?"

I could almost hear the laughter in his voice.

"What's the magic word, Q-man?"

I've gotten more nicknames in the past few days than I ever had in my life before meeting him.

I rolled my teary eyes and huffed dramatically. "Please?"

"Pretty please, with a Quatre on top? Hmm-now there's a thought." His husky voice almost lulled me into a stupor.

My face flushed and my embarrassment at his words made my hands tighten over his and I made a pathetic attempt to get out of his embrace. I knew I'd thought of what I wanted him to do to me, but I never thought he might have the same thoughts.

"Jesus!"

He took the knife and flung it to the ground and grabbed me by the shoulders, turning me swiftly around to face him.

"I thought I told you to watch that, it's sharp ya' know!"

He reached for my face and I stood, silently watching him. All I could see of him was his violet eyes and a bit of skin that showed just around the edge of his eyes before the rest was enveloped in the mask. I frantically searched for other signs of what he looked like.

There, in between the cotton mask and the beginnings of his black jacket was a strand of auburn hair. My fingers acted on their own as they danced upward to wrap around the few strands of hair that were visible. He looked down to see what I'd found so interesting and then I caught on quickly that I wasn't supposed to see it. He jammed the mask down tighter to his neck and tossed my hand away at the same time. I cringed away as his hands grabbed my upper arms and squeezed. I could tell that he was pissed off. Maybe he thought I could identify him because I now knew his hair colour. I felt that was a bit farfetched though. After a few moments of pain I was unaccustomed to, I felt the need to let him know just how much I didn't like it.

I shoved all of my weight into him effectively surprising him into falling off balance. The pain made me realize that he was almost certainly more dangerous than the other attacker. As he fell to the ground, he took me down as well but his hands let go of my shoulders, reflex forcing him to catch himself before hitting the ground. I rolled over and grabbed the knife that lay gleaming atop the paved path and stood up, quickly facing him.

When he realized that I held his weapon, he stood up, slowly raising both hands in a gesture that I read as a playful, 'alright, you got me.' Of course I wasn't fooled by that or was innocent enough to believe that I now held the upper hand. Of course, a sharp knife would likely reduce his need to touch me. I don't know if I should be happy about that or not.

"Why don't you give me that back, eh Quat? You know I'm not going to hurt you." He sounded sincere enough but I just wanted to run back to my house and curl up under the warm blanket, hoping my parents would be finished fighting. This walk was getting out of hand.

"Quat, you're going to hurt yourself with that." He was almost ethereal in the dark, almost nonexistent with the darkness behind him. It was almost as if he wasn't there, like I was holding a knife at nothing. Maybe I was, or I was going crazy and the people I really wanted to fight were the ones at school and at home. Maybe I could get away with leaving and walking down the path. Maybe he wouldn't feel the need to follow if I had a weapon. I started backing down the path all the while watching him, holding out the knife as I did so. His head tilted just a bit in my direction, as if he knew what I was trying to do.

"Quat, not a good idea. I definitely can't let you go home with that knife. She's my pride and joy, buddy."

Fuck. Well, that didn't go as planned. I'd hoped he would just let me go. I was starting to get cold and tired and my patience was running thin so I snapped at him.

"Buy a new one."

Yeah, Winner, good one.

"I can't afford to break in a new one...unless you would like to volunteer?" He started to follow me as I took small steps backwards down the path and I was getting more panicked by the minute. I knew I couldn't use this on him, or anyone else for that matter.

"I'm serious Quatre. Just let me have it back and I'll let you go home for the night, okay?" His eyes watched me like a hawk and I'm sure he could see the indecision on my face. His voice grew softer and he let his arms fall down to his sides.

"I never lie," he paused, "okay?"

I could feel my body shaking as I started to shiver. I'd been outside in the cold for too long.

"Let me warm you up, Quatre."

Oh, how his voice could sound so enticing when I was this afraid I could not fathom. But why not? It wasn't like I was getting any sort of affection from anywhere else. I'm sure he knew when I gave up even before I did.

"Okay."

I let the handle slip from my fingers as I dropped to my knees in front of him. Tears filled my eyes as he grabbed the knife and clipped it onto his belt, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and rubbing me to warm me up. It was working and I felt like I was aflame. I thought of how long it had been since anyone held me this way, since anyone cared enough to try. I let out a sob and buried my face into the hollow of his neck as I wrapped my arms around him. I'm not sure how long we knelt there but I was certain that he had better things to do than hold a stranger like me. I didn't want to move.

He pulled away and brushed the hair out of my face before wiping my wet cheeks dry.

"Let's get you home, Quatre. Think you might've had enough traumatic experiences today." What an understatement, but his voice was soothing like honey as he picked me up, pulling me easily into his arms as I locked my hands around his neck, resting my head on his shoulder. As we reached my home, I could see that the lights were off and all was finally quiet. Of course that also meant it was harder to get inside without anyone noticing. He put me down in front of my window and I never wondered for a moment how he knew which bedroom was mine.

I didn't want to let go but I figured it was less embarrassing for the both of us if I did. I just looked at him standing there and decided to just go inside and maybe pass out for the rest of the school year to forget what happened. I started to climb up to my window and was startled to hear noise coming from below me. The guy was climbing up after me! I never had a man in my bedroom before, let alone a strange man with a knife! My heart was pounding as I crawled into the relative safety of my room and hesitated at the window, wondering if I should close it before he had a chance to follow. He heaved his body up to lightly land on the carpet and then it was too late. He chuckled as he realized why I was so scared, leaning casually against the wall, crossing his arms.

"Don't worry little one, I'm not here to bed you tonight. Unless...you want me to?" I knew he was playing with me.

Oh I wanted him alright. I could almost see the smirk under that mask. I decided to play with him to, since he seemed to get such joy from embarrassing me. He preoccupied himself with walking around my room and looking at various pictures and that stupid stuffed animal I'd had forever. I stood in the middle of the room, watching him prowl through my all of my personal things. He plopped himself onto the satin bedcover, his long black frame stretched out on my bed.

Okay, that was probably as close to intimacy as I was going to get. I closed my eyes, my hands clenched by my sides and said, "What if I did want you to?"


End file.
